


Breathe For Me

by Lunarium



Series: SSSS: Saga of the Mages (aka Mageverse) [21]
Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Established Relationship, Eucatastrophe, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Older Characters, Post-Canon, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-07-10 09:29:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6977722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunarium/pseuds/Lunarium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A moment of great self-sacrifice leaves Lalli without his Luonto for perhaps the final time. As months pass without any sign of the Luonto returning, Reynir grows worried.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathe For Me

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thanks to AmyFortuna for beta-reading this fic! :D You are forever awesome and amazing! ♥
> 
> This story was pretty emotionally-draining to write. I have been on both sides, as both the patient and the caretaker. While the exact events are not necessarily based on what I or my loved ones went through, the emotional experiences are. I'm sorry in advance if it will make you cry. It did for me, but...it was satisfying to get this story out, and have a happy ending to make it all better. :) 
> 
> Written for hc_bingo’s prompt “accepting injury to protect someone" and for the SSSS 100 Prompt Challenge 10. Breathe Again. The picture of the [bedridden mage on page 412 of the webcomic](http://www.sssscomic.com/comic.php?page=412) looked like an older Lalli to me and so also became an inspiration for this fic.

Many miles away, something crawled to the surface from the depths of the great icy fjord. For years it had festered away, unnoticed by any who turned their gaze north. For years the memories of the canon fire, of rejection from their fellows—man, they once were—twisted, gnarled, and fused far deep in the fjord. For years, the bitter taste of vengeance’s need settled on their tongues, their linked minds all poised towards the land which wrought their demise. 

The world above the sea changed. For long the enemy ruled, triumphant from their fear. Then fear had become routine, then skepticism, then hope. Hope blinded them to threat still lurking about. The enemy’s hope saved the giant, safe and now awaking from its slumber. 

Cries of its rejected fellows have long ceased, but still the giant’s heart twisted and coiled with the hate, the memory of the ship who shot them down when they sought refuge. Never will it forgive or forget. 

On the day when it kicked off from its hiding place, the thinnest line of gold broke the dawning sky, rays like thin golden threads on the water as the creature swam. Some of its linked minds remembered dawn, but no heart skipped a beat at any memory. 

Along the Ísafjarðardjúp it crept till it reached the coast, spotting green on the early morning: white clouds of sheep on the grass grazing, a dog running in the distance, and a lone figure among them strolling until—

Stopping, his face upturned, and pale eyes glowed behind a fringe of silvery-ashen hair, the lips about his wrinkled face turned into a deep frown. Shock. Terror. Not a native man of this land, thin-boned and small-framed. Weak. It would be almost a waste to take it out on him, but there were Icelanders about, those he cared for. Peering into the man’s eyes, the giant could glean all he would lose on this coast: the farm, the livestock, the neighbors, his partner, the grandchildren… 

The giant reared for the attack, the years of hate all boiling, all centering on this one old man by the coast, when suddenly the entire world about was engulfed in a blinding white light.

*

Reynir awoke with a start, hand on a heaving chest. He tried to remember what caused the sudden panicking sensation, but it did not correlate with the dream he was having.

The room was cast in darkness, and thinking it was still nighttime, he was about to turn over to go back to sleep when he noticed Lalli wasn’t at his side. His husband had gotten into the habit of watching their sheep for him in the early morning to allow Reynir’s own bones a few hours’ rest. Lalli had not minded, giving the excuse that he missed the times of being up before everyone and seeing the sunrise. 

Reynir blinked. The bathroom light wasn’t on. Then was there a storm? No wind blew against the window shutters. Frowning, he checked the clock, then blinked again as a few rays of light cast through the window. 

“Lalli?” 

His heart’s pace quickened again. 

He moved faster than his doctor would have recommended, but instinct, fast settling in, told him that something was amiss. The bedroom window gave a clear view of the farmland beyond and the coast, and the hills along the shore. They had chosen this very place for privacy and for time alone and as far away from any danger, especially when the coasts were deemed free of any dangers several decades back. 

“Lalli!” 

Reynir’s voice tore with the panic. He nearly plummeted down the stairs and out of the house, making for the wide field. The sheep ran in all directions, and their dog yelped in both fear and anger but could not get too close to the great white ball of light on the field. 

“ _Lalli! STOP!_ ” 

The giant loomed over the coast like a great shadow blocking the morning sun, overcast only by the light of Lalli’s magic rippling through him like a speeding tornado, the high wind causing debris to fly past. 

Before Reynir could do anything, he saw it happen: the Luonto, the great lynx, reared up to cast its final great act, destroying the giant, before it landed several meters away from Lalli. It glanced back at Lalli with a look Reynir was certain was regret and pain, then limped away, its form disappearing from sight like smoke. 

“No,” Reynir whispered softly, one hand over his mouth. He had just reached Lalli, staring at the spot where the lynx had just been. 

Lalli managed to remain on his feet for but a moment before his stance faltered. Reynir caught him in time. 

“You could have called for me,” he said gently, choosing mainly Finnish words to structure his sentence. 

Lalli uttered a sound. “No time.” Blood trickled from his nose and the corners of his eyes and mouth. It was always like this every time he overtaxed himself to the point of losing his Luonto, but Reynir bit back any other remark. He was well used to Lalli’s stubbornness and knew now was not the time to scorn his husband. He couldn’t, not when a moment later, Lalli gripped his arm for support and lurched forward, vomiting jets of blood. 

“Grandpas?” 

Reynir looked up at their granddaughter, who had caught up with him. He was not aware he was being followed. 

“Go back to your brother,” he ordered quickly and quietly, motioning towards the door where her twin stood, clearly shaking even from this distance. 

“But—” Wordlessly he warned her, and her brother though he didn’t need to be told as often, to keep quiet. Her eyes, so much like Lalli’s, were studying him with scrutiny though she was obviously shaken. Undoubtedly the twins were watching from their room, not having had the chance to do much else after being as shaken from their sleep as Reynir had been. 

“Go back indoors,” Reynir said. “I got this. This is what—lean on me, Lalli—we mean by—one step at a time—taking care of your Luonto…”

Holding Lalli close, Reynir could feel Lalli’s heart pounding heavily through his thin chest; he helped Lalli back home. 

The morning sunlight glowed against the walls of the Arngerðareyri as though no giant attack had just transpired. Reynir and Lalli had found the place many decades ago, back when they could seldom understand one another (or sometimes stand one another), but they had grown fond of the place and what they had discovered inside, as well as what they discovered within one another. 

After the Icelandic coasts were cleared and allowed to be habitable, Reynir and Lalli could not resist coming here, to the place they visited many times together in their dreams while still tucked away under blankets in Denmark. There were secrets within that had helped the expedition in ways none could have perceived, its effects still rippling throughout the new Known World. 

As for Reynir and Lalli, they were content to live as normally as they could here, declining General Sigrun Eide’s offer on continuing the expedition. Together they made the abandoned farmhouse their home, situated in the farthest north of Iceland at the coast, and rebuilt it to surpass its former glory. Here Aina their daughter grew up, and now her children. 

Their granddaughter ran ahead of them to hold the door open and order her brother to bring out a chair for Reynir to help settle Lalli on. Gripping the sides, Lalli breathed deeply, swaying on the chair as though he had just run the distance of Finland. When Reynir tried to speak, a hand shot out, warning him, and well accustomed to Lalli’s needs by now, Reynir shut his mouth. 

With the curtains drawn closed, the twins’ eyes shone even brighter as they studied their injured grandfather. Aina had named them Rein Lalla and Reynir Lalli in honor of her fathers, and they had no identifiable father, having come from the Dagrenning Program as her gift to them for want of more hands on the farm in exchange for her chance to explore the world (and stir mischief among the mages, Reynir was certain.) They were virtually identical, mirror images of one another down to how they cut their straight hair, androgynous even after they hit puberty. They had taken on Reynir’s red hair, though in honor of their Finnish heritage through Lalli they both streaked a bit of the silvery blond trimming one side, Rein Lalla on her right and Reynir Lalli on his left. Reynir and Lalli often joked only the streak alone could help identify them, though in temperament they were quite different. 

Save for the concern in her eyes, Rein Lalla stood still. But Reynir Lalli was still visibly scared, wringing his hands together against too-long sleeves. 

“Should I…get some water?” Reynir Lalli asked, struggling a little with his Finnish. Reynir and Lalli had made certain their daughter and grandchildren knew both, though growing up in Iceland meant they were more accustomed to one over the other. The twins had complicated matters by combining the two into what they lovingly called _Íslenuomi_. 

When Lalli took too long to respond, Reynir glanced about his features, reading the expression on his face, and replied for him. 

“It might not be much help—actually, yes, please, both of you.”

Rein Lalla’s eyebrows shot up at his suggestion to follow her brother, but she obliged. 

Reynir watched them get well out of earshot before turning back to Lalli, then got on his knees.

“Should I tell Aina?” he asked gently, his voice soft and low, close to Lalli’s ear. 

“No, let’s not trouble our daughter.” Lalli’s voice, a half-whisper, tried to hide back the pain racking through his thin frame. 

He refused to drink the water when the twins returned, but took the cup to wash off the blood from his chin, lips, and under the corners of his eyes. Always strong, never complaining of fatigue even as old age crept on Reynir, Lalli suddenly appeared far older than his age, frail and quivering from sudden weakness. 

Seeing his eyes glass over, Reynir relieved him from the cup and gathered Lalli into his arms. With a nod, Rein Lalla took the cup back, and they moved aside as Reynir stood up, supporting Lalli against his frame, and made for their bedroom.

*

The first couple of days, Lalli did little beyond rest in bed and sleep. Reynir knew better than to bother him; and that knowing Lalli preferred not to have two odd grandchildren looming over him, what with Rein Lalla and her questions or Reynir Lalli observing in a silent mix of fascination and worry, he busied the twins with work outside on the farm. But whenever he had the chance to steal away some alone time, he slid onto the chair beside the bed, ensuring himself that Lalli was still breathing. It had not been the first time Lalli’s Luonto had left his body, but he was nearly seventy in age, and the experience of being without his Luonto hadn’t been easy even when he was nineteen.

Once Reynir could get the twins to agree to watch Lalli without misbehaving, he contacted the authorities to report the matter of the giant. In the Year 140, giants were unheard of, and beasts, ghosts, and trolls were fast becoming just as rare. Most of the monsters that plagued Earth had been cleared now that the Known World was expanding after the discovery of the vaccine, the cure, made it possible. 

Uncovering the remains of the giant was futile. Lalli had done such fine work in destroying the giant that virtually nothing of the creature remained, though later Reynir was notified by one impressed officer that they were able to retrieve a few scraps of the monster. 

“I’m tell you, had it run amok, all of Westfjords would have been destroyed!” said the captain cheerfully as Reynir listened, not speaking, huddled with the scarf around his neck. “No chance for any of you! It’s a miracle this thing is even dead! How did it even escape our notice…?” 

Reynir nodded slowly. 

None knew what it had cost Lalli to save all of Westfjords.

*

At night Reynir slept surrounding him with one protective arm, while in the dream world he walked around Lalli’s sleeping form, watching for any threats. His fylgja ran laps around them both as loyally as their sheepdog did in the waking world while they tended to their sheep. Were Lalli awake in the dreamworld, he would grow annoyed with the cheerful dog, throwing some comment about how dealing with Reynir’s sunny disposition was bad enough. But now even in the dreamworld Lalli slept.

 _He has really done it this time_ , Reynir thought with a frown. 

Their havens have long ago converged, as was the usual fate of mages who wed, though parts were clearly still Lalli’s and parts still Reynir’s. And in times such as this, Reynir was glad they shared the same Haven. He would do nothing else as long as his body slept, and would refuse any sensation that he was slipping into a prophetic dream. He cared nothing what the gods wished to show him of the future, only that Lalli was protected away from harm. 

Often Rein Lalla and Reynir Lalli passed by, trespassing through their grandfather’s Haven with the same ease as Reynir had trespassed into Lalli’s in his youth, their eyes aglow as they threw worried glances at one grandfather before being silently chased away by the other. It was ghosts Reynir most feared of any monsters who were drawn to the thinning shields of a man weakened, but he appreciated having the chance to chase away two little monsters from time to time.

*

Days passed. A fortnight . Reynir counted on the calendar and found, much to his horror, this was the longest Lalli had gone without his Luonto. With each passing silent day, Lalli grew more fatigued, though Reynir attempted, in his gentle yet persistent way, in getting his husband to get anything into his body. He had much practice in nursing sick sheep that a fellow human wasn’t much different. But his optimism and hope that Lalli would be back on his feet—a elderly man still able to outrun every horse, car, and train, his sharp eyes discerning through deep dark forests like the stories of ancient elves Reynir’s sisters used to read to him—was fast depleting.

Lalli didn’t return to his former strength a week later, nor the next. Reynir was fighting with Lalli in getting food past his lips, and praying to every deity who would hear him that the food would stay down. It became harder to ignore the thinning frame of his husband’s body.

*

Sometimes, if he would dare to leave Lalli’s side for a while, Reynir stood on the fringes of his Haven and called out for Lalli’s Luonto. He and Lalli were together for so many years, their bodies having become one in the waking world and here so often, that he hoped the Luonto would recognize his heartfelt plea and return.

*

The next morning, Reynir walked in to find Lalli sitting up in bed.

“Lalli!” Reynir rushed to his side, but froze when he saw how weak and frail he still looked, quite unlike the healthy glow that accompanied Lalli each time he regained his Luonto. 

Lalli glanced up, grimacing before pushing to his feet. He kept on hand on the nightstand for support. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t push yourself,” Reynir said, hovering nearby in case he needed to break Lalli’s fall. 

But his his stubborn husband shook his head, barely holding back a pained sound from escaping his lips. “I know what I’m doing.” 

Reynir knew better than to criticize his husband in any way.

*

They slipped into a dissemblance of normalcy, as close as they could muster for the next couple weeks, though Reynir tried not to comment on Lalli’s slow and confused gait.

“If you can forgive me for saying this, he walks like one of the undead,” Reynir Lalli confessed to Reynir one evening. Perhaps it was the excitement of seeing his grandfather back on his feet that made Reynir Lalli more talkative than usual. “I read a lot of about them last summer. They’re dead. They don’t have their souls, but they still walk, and they search and eat living people’s flesh.” 

“You should probably read less about them,” Reynir retorted in disgust, wincing away and keeping his eyes on Lalli. “That’s what you went for when your sister took you to the library?” 

Realizing what he had just said, Reynir Lalli apologized and looked away, falling silent. In truth, he was good help, as was Rein Lalla…if Lalli could let them. Whenever they could, the twins tried to offer aid, but ever stubborn, Lalli would only send them away. His insistence on saying he was fine even as his cheekbones sunk more and more was alarming everyone, though none could find the courage to speak. 

Reynir could only keep supporting Lalli in any way he was needed. 

But he could no longer keep the façade when he witnessed Lalli one evening attempt to pick up the tea kettle with bony shaking fingers and lose his grip, the kettle nearly dropping to the floor. Lalli covered his face with his hands, and a moment later Reynir realized Lalli was crying. His own head spun, suddenly feeling discombobulated with that fact, that Lalli— _crying_ —it was so long ago since the last time— 

His heart gave out and in a flash Reynir was on his feet, embracing Lalli while hushing him softly and brushing the tears away. He helped him back to his bed, which Lalli did not resist, before heading back to make the tea Lalli could not pour for himself. By the time he had returned back upstairs, Lalli had fallen asleep. 

The tea, settled on the nightstand, turned cold waiting for him. 

This brief moment was, Reynir learned upon reflecting in the months following, Lalli’s attempt at fighting the illness, and Reynir would come to kick himself for not encouraging Lalli instead of fretting over him for going against his people’s normal customs.

*

They were back to waiting. Back to watching over Lalli sleep in the dreamworld. If Lalli’s eyes fluttered open, it was for briefest moments before he slipped back asleep.

Two months had passed since the giant attack. 

Lalli was slipping away before Reynir’s eyes. The spring became summer, and Lalli shivered from a cold no one else felt. Even in the dreamworld Reynir watched helplessly as Lalli trembled and withered in cold-pain unless Reynir had him wrapped, willing the sun high in his Haven to bask Lalli in warmth. 

Lalli cried out in the night, screaming for his mother and grandmother, and once, nearly driving Reynir into a panic from the memory, begging the kade Valttu to stop. Rein Lalla’s face was taut with the questions, burning to ask about who Valttu was. Reynir silently warned her to keep silent. It was a past best left unvisited. 

But Lalli’s screaming had gotten to them. Reynir sometimes heard the twins whimpering in their beds. Whenever Reynir asked for them to watch over Lalli, he could see the dread in their eyes. They stopped visiting in the dreamworld. They were scared what they would see, as though the kade of Lalli’s nightmares would be lurking therein. They were even terrified of entering the bedroom. 

Months. It had been months. Three months with barely any nutrition …Reynir was now phoning in the best medics and hospitals in Reykjavík, having long given up in trying to feed Lalli alone. His husband was withering away before him, his strong, silent, stubborn husband. A hero left to wither in agony till his last breath, and Reynir— _I’m so stupid!_ —could not save him. 

He took out a part of his land to pay the medical team appointed to the care of Lalli. First they tried feeding him through a G-tube, but the nutrients seldom stayed down. Not even when provided with the nutrients in such a simple form did Lalli’s accept it. His body rejected the nutrients, rejected life. The sight of him vomiting out the nutrients was a sight that had Reynir nearly break down before the entire medic team, suddenly feeling fifty years younger, lost, and terrified. 

“Mr. Árnason?” a very kind but firm voice broke through his thoughts. The doctor extended out her hand. “I am Dr. Ingdís Gunnarsdottir, and I’m the Nutrition Specialist. It appears Mr. Hotakainen is having a little trouble here!” 

Reynir nodded his head once, words failing him, but Dr. Gunnarsdottir was watching for his visual clues. Obviously she had much experience with dealing with family in similar situations before. 

“I understand you’re concerned for him, so this is what we’ll be doing next.” She showed him a diagram, explaining things just as her medical team, undeterred by their first failure, proceeded to their next step. They handled Lalli with the same stoic care that Reynir gave the sheep on the farm.

“Instead of going into his stomach, we’re going to place a jejunostomy tube feeding, or a J-tube, that will go into the the jejunum. That's here in the second part of his small intestines, see? This way, all of the nutrition we give him will bypass his stomach, and avoid any risk of vomiting! It requires a little more dilution and smaller volumes at first, but I think you can handle that, mister farmer!” 

Reynir was reminded of a more mellow Sigrun. 

“You’re making another hole in his body?” he asked dryly. 

Dr. Gunnarsdottir paused, smiling from ear to ear. “His G-tube site will heal in time. Now, _this_ should help with his caloric intake, but if there is any change or if his gastrointestinal tract renders completely immotile, our next step is to move to TPNs through a central vein.” 

“Central vein,” Reynir repeated slowly. 

The thought of them drilling more holes into Lalli kept Reynir up that night.

*

Neither Rein Lalla nor Reynir Lalli wanted to see Lalli after stepping inside the following day. No matter how much Reynir smiled and gently tried to ease their fears when he requested their aid in cleansing the J-tube site for the first feeding, they screamed and cried, Rein Lalla especially, keening till it pierced Reynir’s eardrums, too mortified to even look at Lalli. Reynir Lalli, shaking from head to toe, pulled her away.

Perhaps it was a grandfather’s love, but their voices had roused Lalli, his eyes fluttering open, and gathering enough energy to tilt his head to see what was causing his daughter’s twins so much distress. Seeing them eye him with so much fear and revulsion…Reynir could feel Lalli’s shame and his heart breaking, and his own face burned with rare anger. 

He stormed after the twins into the kitchen. 

“I love how you both repay your gratitude for the way your grandfather saved your lives!” Reynir’s voices bellowed and shook the house. “I want you both to remember that! Next time I might not be as generous!” He was never one who raised his voice, seldom the one who got mad. And a small part of him understood the twins’ shock, but what had hurt more was seeing the broken look in Lalli’s eyes: abandoned, dismissed, and unthanked from every angle, even by his own family. 

He could still hearing Rein Lalla crying loudly in Reynir Lalli’s arms by the time he slammed the bedroom door shut behind him, returning to Lalli who had gone back to sleep. As Reynir worked alone, he tried to ignore the single tear that rested on Lalli’s cheek.

*

It quickly became frustrating for Reynir to do everything alone, from the farm to tending to Lalli. He didn’t bother asking anything from the twins, still angry at their earlier behavior. He refused to even look at them. But with no other outlet, sleeping less and less lest Lalli needed him, he felt his own mind breaking.

His missed his brothers and sisters. He didn’t wish to know what Björk’s reaction would be if she knew; she had made her disdain of Reynir marrying a Finn known a long time ago. Þórlindur had passed away too early in his life, though Reynir still clung to his phone number in vain hope of him calling one day. Hlynur’s hearing had gone, and Reynir wasn’t up for screaming at the top of his lungs over the phone, which he had always done with amusement before. 

Fura understood when he called. He could barely get the first few words out before the words died in his throat, the rest of his sentence dissolved into tears. She could not make the journey to their farm, but she talked on the phone for however long he needed, her voice as soothing and gentle as always Reynir remembered when she used to comfort him from nightmares in his youth. He imagined her warm large arms around him. 

“I will keep him in my prayers, all right dear?” she said. 

Whimpering, Reynir nodded but could barely manage a “Yes.” 

He was unaware of two figures listening by the staircase.

*

Next afternoon he passed the kitchen while the twins were washing dishes— _For once doing something without being prompted_ , Reynir thought bitterly—when he caught a snippet of their conversation:

“He never talks now,” Rein Lalla was lamenting, sniffling back her tears. “Before, Grandpa Reynir always was the talkative one. To the point where you thought you’d like to shoot yourself. We used to sit there and wonder if he managed to talk Grandpa Lalli to death because his head would just drop right onto the dinner plate, but Grandpa Reynir would just keep going.” She gave a half-laugh. “Remember how we used to joke with Grandpa Lalli that we’d all get away from him just to relax and enjoy the sounds of the ocean? Grandpa Lalli suggested a forest instead; it’s his home. And he could fling stuff at Grandpa Reynir. Those two still act like kids sometimes. Kids with back problems. But, gods, we hated his constant talking so much.” 

“Maybe we’re both like Grandpa Lalli in that way,” Reynir Lalli said. 

Rein Lalla made a sound in agreement. “I miss it. When Grandpa Lalli said it becomes as much part of your environment as the sounds of the ocean and the forest, he was right. Without it, I feel like the whole world has ended.” 

“Yeah.” 

_Have I really stopped talking as much as before?_ Reynir thought, one hand on the railing, one foot on a stair, before shaking his head and heading up.

*

“Grandpa?”

The knock was so soft that without Rein Lalla’s voice Reynir may have missed it. He kept his eyes on Lalli. 

“Come in.” 

He heard the twins file in gingerly, shutting the door behind them. 

“We thought if you wanted our help in feeding Grandpa,” Reynir Lalli began formerly but not unkind. 

“And we’re sorry about being pinpricks earlier,” Rein Lalla added. 

It was impossible for Reynir to hold a grudge, something Lalli had teased him about before. Reynir smiled. 

“It’s…fine. You can leave the feeding to me. It’s, um, a complicated process. You need to regularly flush the tube with water and stuff to prevent it from clogging. But if you want to wash around the site, I can show you how to do that. And I need you to tend the farm, mostly. Yeah.” 

“Oh, okay,” Rein Lalla said in a cautiously cheerful voice. “It’s more romantic that way, then, if you feed him. We can wash him, that’s fine. And the sheep too. Reynir Lalli likes tending to the sheep, he told me.” 

A corner of Reynir’s mouth twitched into a tired smile. Two small shadows loomed over them as Rein Lalla and Reynir Lalli approached the bedside, studying Lalli carefully. 

“Is it helping him?” Rein Lalla asked. 

In that moment Lalli cracked open an eye, stealing a look about. His gaze instantly locked with the twins, who Reynir paid attention to, were careful to smile and bend over to kiss his brow, each personally asking for his forgiveness for their earlier behavior. 

Reynir, however, didn’t like Lalli’s smile. His eyes turned towards him as he was in the middle of pushing a syringe of nutrients through the tube. 

“Two thousand calories a day,” Lalli wheezed, almost amused, before the next words dripped with venom. “You think a can of _Tryggja_ will bring back my Luonto? You’re wasting your time…all of you!” 

Reynir sighed as last few drops squeezed into the tube. He avoided the silent looks of horror from Rein Lalla and Reynir Lalli.

*

The tubes no longer bothered Rein Lalla and Reynir Lalli. They helped bathe Lalli and properly cleaned the J-tube site without a single word of complaint. Any mess, any accident was dealt with delicateness. They were maturing fast before Reynir’s eyes. He wasn’t sure if it was something for him to be proud of or not, given the circumstance.

If Reynir was needed outside the house or was busy tending to a sick sheep, they stayed beside Lalli, the IV lines having become as much part of the bedroom decor as anything else. Reynir Lalli, thankfully, didn’t mention anything about flesh-eating undead monsters, but would update Lalli about the farm and any stories of the sheep, making him feel as much still part of the family as before. Lalli appreciated it, but the hand that patted Reynir Lalli’s was more weak and bony than the day previous. 

If Lalli was strong enough to keep his eyes open, they would recite poetry and songs in Finnish they had written just for Lalli (mostly penned by Rein Lalla, who had a natural talent for words and for illustrating.) Reynir had caught snippets of the poems passing their rooms, and knew they were perfecting their grasp of the language just to bring as much happiness to Lalli as it could. In those times, rare peacefulness crossed Lalli’s features as he slept. 

Yet still there was no sign of the Luonto, and five months had passed since the giant attack. Reynir had returned home one afternoon to the twins crying silently outside the bedroom. Reynir’s heart instantly froze and ran inside, crouching over his husband. Lalli’s cheekbones stuck out from a grey face, cold sweat on his brow, his breathing shallow. 

“Lalli? Love? Lalli, can you hear me?” 

“He’s been…getting worse all morning…” Reynir Lalli’s voice drifted from the landing, small and scared. 

“He was talking to his grandmother,” Rein Lalla snapped through her tears. 

Reynir’s fingers curled into the blanket. _Please, Lalli, fight this! I know you can conquer it!_ He turned back to the twins, speaking in Icelandic. “What were they talking about?” 

There was a whimper before Rein Lalla replied. 

“Where they are going to meet.”

*

Aina was still not informed.

The phone number Reynir had tried, which was meant to link him to the house she had said she was staying in, had not been successful. It wasn’t unheard of for her to suddenly bolt out to another location without so much as a warning. She was always on the move, always going from one place to the next—a fact which often left Reynir and Lalli jokingly arguing which father she took after more—with some fool’s hope and ambition of acquiring as much land to divide them into fief. Trying to reach her through dreams was equally unsuccessful. Somehow, she was never easy to contact. Reynir did not think he had ever even seen what her Haven looked like. 

Reynir dreaded to think of the next time they spoke and what the tone that conversation might take. 

The thought wasn’t something he wished to dwell on, but seeing the IV lines hooked to Lalli, he had to face the possibility. They were reaching six months since the day Lalli’s Luonto had left without any chance of it ever returning, and seemingly reaching the very end of the road. 

Onni had secluded himself away so that contacting him by phone was also out of the question, but there was another means. Closing his tear-filled eyes, Reynir reached out for Onni. He hated doing so, knowing the wrath he would face if Lalli knew. By all rights, it should have been impossible for Reynir and Onni to come into contact, being so far apart in distance, but the two mages were immensely powerful, and Reynir’s voice carried over like a distressed thunder rumbling through the dreamworld, his heart ripping along with his voice as he screamed out with agony that Lalli was in peril. 

Reynir awoke to the sound of the phone ringing. 

Lalli was barely conscious when Reynir informed him of Onni and Tuuri traveling to Iceland. Lalli’s lips thinned disapprovingly as Reynir expected, and he may have swatted Reynir had he any strength, but a moment later the lips quivered. 

“I suppose…it’s appropriate,” he mumbled. 

Reynir cringed, hating the defeated tone in his husband’s voice, that damn resignation. But leaning close, Reynir gently pressed his lips to Lalli’s and fought back his own tears.

*

Onni and Tuuri arrived by ship to the Reykjavík port, and traveled the rest of the way to Ísafjörð by train. Rein Lalla went to receive them from Reykjavik while Reynir Lalli stayed behind to help out with anything his grandfather needed in the daily care of Lalli: bathing him, redressing his J-tube site and IV line, changing the bedsheets and fitting him in clean nightclothes, all while taking care not to tire him out so he would have enough energy left to converse with his family.

 _For possibly the final time_ , the words rang out in Reynir’s exhausted mind. He tried to shake them out. 

When he saw his granddaughter appear with Tuuri and Onni by early evening, Reynir rushed out without another word. Reynir Lalli stayed behind and kept one hand close to his grandfather’s shoulder. 

Upon seeing them, guilt instantly consumed Reynir. Tuuri's hair was a soft pale grey and Onni a pure white, though it, if possible, did not diminish the intense power within him. Reynir could still sense it. His eyes bearing down on Reynir brought him back to one afternoon shaking as he stammered to Onni his declaration in marrying Lalli. But the moment passed and the eyes regarding him now spoke merely of grief at the news, and the weariness of travel.

Reynir sent the twins to keep Lalli company while he prepared tea for Onni and Tuuri. Somehow, a bit of rest before they saw Lalli—before they saw what Lalli’s sacrifice had done to himself—seemed appropriate. 

“I’m so sorry,” Tuuri began when they were all settled with their tea at the kitchen table, though none picked up to drink. Wrinkles formed around Tuuri’s eyes with her warm smile. “I know you were hoping the rest would be here. But Sigrun was far away when Onni called. I came right away.” 

“Oh.” Reynir’s fingers ghosted over the teacup. Sigrun, who had married Tuuri at some point after their famed expedition, had become the head general of all the Norwegian troll hunters. Even at eighty-two she did not stop running around and commanding entire armies. “How far have they reached?” 

“She’s nearing China after reaching a message from the _wu_ ,” Tuuri said, her smile turning with pride. Reynir couldn’t help but return the smile, recalling the most unusual dream he and Lalli had had together, many decades back, that had strangely still, included Sigrun and a sorceress from a faraway land whose name they had never learned of till recently. 

“She couldn’t come, of course, but we spoke by radio before I left,” Tuuri said. “She sends her…sympathies. And tells Lalli he can join her once he’s back on his feet.” 

A corner of Reynir’s lips twitched. “Please be sure to tell that to Lalli, will you? I think it’ll make him laugh. Or want to throw something at Sigrun.” 

Their chuckles were light, weak attempts at lighting the mood, though Onni’s face didn’t crack a smile. A crinkle of light shone in the tiny teardrops forming in the corners of his eyes which he did not bother to wipe away. 

“Mirjam wanted to come when I called them,” Tuuri continued, “but she could not leave Emil and Gunnar alone, not when—”

“It’s understandable,” Reynir said instantly and firmly. “Maire needs them every second of the way. And Mikkel, I’m guessing…” 

Onni nodded. “He’s with the other grandchildren right now. Emil really appreciates the extra hands.” 

Reynir nodded slowly. He was certain Mikkel would be too old for the travel anyway. 

“How _is_ little Maire right now?” Reynir asked, casting his gaze carefully at Onni, and was glad when the other mage replied. He had always worried Onni hated him and blamed him for any misery that befell Lalli, especially since Lalli had run off one day to go to Iceland alone, though Reynir had never asked him. It was Sigrun who had asked for Tuuri’s hand in marriage and thus to move out of Finland and away from Onni forever. It was Lalli who had asked for Reynir’s hand instead, and chose Iceland as his home. 

Their conversation carried on for a while longer before Reynir judged it was best time for them to see Lalli. 

He led them to his and Lalli’s room, and gently called out for his grandchildren to leave. He kept his eyes close on Onni and Tuuri as they entered, half-fearing their reaction upon seeing the IV lines. Indeed, Onni’s eyes flashed, but he did not cross the room in one stride and strike Reynir as he had feared. Instead, they both trod with unusual carefulness. They were no strangers to their mages being without their Luontos, but the sight of Lalli was enough to instantly render them mute with grief. 

They approached his side and bent over as if to speak in whispers. Onni’s eyes shone in the curtain-drawn room as Tuuri’s lips pressed against Lalli’s brow. For a moment there was only Lalli’s shallow breathing. 

Reynir remained outside, watched the moment when Lalli’s eyes fought open and his face shown the faint signs of recognition, lighting up at seeing his family.

“Tuuri. Onni.” 

Finnish spoken softly, kindly, and with a broken heart, filled the Icelandic farmhouse and bedroom. Reynir turned away, not wishing to disturb them. He had come to know enough of his husband’s native language to understand them that he did not wish to invade their privacy. 

Smiling sadly, Reynir wiped the tears from his eyes as he recalled a time when he understood not a word. Lalli had been so angry, caught in a web of pain woven by a past of horrors and a mind none could figure out. They kissed when they were not meant to, and more, the message in Lalli’s eyes more comprehensible than the words uttered past his lips. It was too early, too soon, and they were both still too immature. Mikkel used to shake his head in silent disapproval as he collected their bedsheets. Sigrun laughed and mocked them, then would do a one-eighty if Lalli was late for his scouting. Tuuri used to frown but said nothing. Emil used to defend them, thinking everyone should leave Lalli alone to choose his own partner, but Emil was just as young and naïve as Reynir was. 

Katla was the worst of all. Katla Galdursdóttir, the Icelandic mage they were all too lucky to run across and who had become his mentor throughout their journey. She outrightly punished him for every little kiss, and she did not come to Lalli’s defense when Reynir’s own sister Björk had verbally taunted Lalli on the first night he spent with Reynir and his family with slurs till he was near tears. 

Thinking back, perhaps that was why Fura had offered to carry their child, Reynir realized. 

Sighing, Reynir shook his head in the present. Just marrying Lalli alone sometimes felt like he had _stolen_ him from the Hotakainen, though it was not he who had taken Lalli to Iceland with him. Lalli had simply run off from Keuruu one evening, had just completely not shown to work and travelled to Iceland alone, showing up on the farm while Reynir and Katla were off at the fields to practice magic. The message in his eyes were clear: _we should try again._

Sinking onto a chair back in the kitchen table, a sorrow and grief suddenly, building along with the fatigue, consumed Reynir. Perhaps it was the stress of the situation—and the lack of sleep did not help with him continually fighting any prophetic dreams in want of staying beside Lalli in their shared Haven—finally catching up to him. 

Memories poured into his mind, the many times he and Lalli just _tried_. Seeking a common language with their bodies while everyone else were outside of the tank, weaving words of their love into kisses planted against soft warm skin in the barn, chests heaving, one eye keeping a lookout for being caught. 

There were broken plates. Katla said there would be. 

“Something not right in the boy’s head,” she had warned, but Reynir had ignored her just as he ignored the times Lalli left long scratch marks down his arms, scars which he still had; or the time Lalli had nearly rendered Reynir deaf one afternoon, Lalli’s hands clamped over his own head as he screamed and screamed, tears pouring down tightly-shut eyes, all for want of the right word. 

Reynir never gave up. It was, to him, a simple matter, no different than figuring out what was distressing one of the sheep in the herd. Lalli needed a word; Reynir could help him find it. Each day he taught Lalli a new word and learned a few himself, till Icelandic and Finnish entwined together as tightly as their heated bodies in the fervent nights of their union. 

But there were joyous moments, peaceful moments, moments when they both realized the relationship was worth their efforts. Fura’s sunny smile as she held out the bundle in her arms for Lalli to take, and his own eyes shining, love glimmering behind the pale grey, before his lips trembled and he lowered his head before anyone could see the tears as he whispered his mother’s name, and so their newborn daughter was named after Aina Hotakainen. 

“Grandpa?” 

Reynir waved his grandchildren away, throwing the briefest of smiles to assure them he was well. 

“I’m…tired,” he said in a soft voice. The tears kept rolling long after they left, his heart bursting. He no longer felt just seventy, years of having been patient, having grown and walked the long journey with Lalli in their long and difficult relationship; he was a young man again, a young man foolish in love whose heart was breaking, alone in how to solve the unsolvable situation before him. 

But how could this be solved? Reynir could almost laugh at himself. Lalli was dying. It was simple as that. 

_But it’s a simple matter!_ , he remembered his younger self thinking in blind optimism as Lalli seethed and another plate went flying. _I just need to find the answer—the right word! With luck I can find it and everything will be okay again!_

He was not aware of falling asleep, nor of when he awoke inside the chapel. 

For so long he had fought the dreams from happening that it took him a moment to understand what was happening; for one frightful moment he thought he would be asked to approach a casket. 

But he was alone, though his heart willed for it not to be so. 

“Mother?” he called out. “Please, appear. Come here. Father? Please, I must speak with you.” 

His voice shook. How long ago since he had spoken with them, how many years since he had first approached them, hiding the scratchmarks Lalli had left, being embraced by two concerned but supportive parents. 

“What must I _do_?” Reynir called out. “I…can’t—will not—let him go!” 

“What are you waving at the altar for? Look over here, boy!” 

Gasping, Reynir jumped at the sight of Katla sitting cross-legged near the window. She regarded him with that stern amused look he missed so well. 

“Took you long enough to dream,” she said. “Shouldn’t be too annoyed with you. You must be a truly powerful mage if you can evade prophetic dreams this long. That’s something to be proud of, I guess.” 

Reynir settled himself at the newest pew. “You could not contact me through the dreamworld?” 

“Of course not, stupid! I’m dead! And have been having the time of my afterlife until I learned you’re having a bit of trouble in your life with that Finn.” 

“He’s my husband. We have a family.” 

“I know that. And he obviously means so much to you that you’ve forgotten half the crap I taught you.” 

Under her gaze, Reynir felt like her student again. His cheeks burned hot with embarrassment. 

“Er…is there a way to save him?” 

“His Luonto’s gone for good,” Katla said simply. “Saw it with my own eyes. That thing’s deader than a rock broken by Thor’s lightning rod and washed away into the sea.” 

“Then _why_ have you been trying to reach me if not to give me any hope?” Reynir asked, standing up. “So he’s going to die, then? That’s it? I bring his cousins in, and that’s it? His daughter won’t make it in on time! Tomorrow I’ll be calling funeral services—that’s what you’re telling me. That the many years I’ve known Lalli will only amount to this moment, that I must watch him suffer for close to six months because he did what none of you could have had the power or the heart to do at that moment and willing to sacrifice yourselves for the people you loved! Even when they sometimes don’t appreciate you back—”

“Æ, there he goes again flapping those lips! First time in ages, so we shouldn’t complain!” Katla threw her head back and laughed. 

Reynir promptly grew silent, glaring at her. 

She grinned down at him. “Remember the basics, foolish boy. The soul, the Icelandic soul, has many parts to it as well, just like those heathens.” She leaned her head back, studying him closely. “Though I am not certain if you are ready to sacrifice a bit of yourself.” 

“Why wouldn’t I? I’m a powerful mage!” Reynir retorted. “I challenged and killed the most powerful kade that walked this world!” 

Chuckling, Katla nodded her head. “Indeed. And Valttu had threatened Lalli’s life. It was either him or your Lalli. Guess we know your motivating factor, then! So! This should be a piece of cake!” 

Reynir’s eyes brightened. “Will it? I’ve thought everything I could do for him. I wondered if I just needed some time or luck or—”

“There you go, boy. You just said it. In order for you to save him, Lalli just needs a little bit of _your luck_.”

*

He awoke as a gentle hand rested on his shoulder.

“You’ll hurt your back this way,” Tuuri said kindly. Onni was right behind. 

Their bloodshot eyes told Reynir all, but there was something stirring in his chest that he had not felt for the longest time. 

“How is he?” he asked. 

“We spoke for some time,” Tuuri explained, checking the clock. “Oh! We must have exhausted him!” 

“You must be tired yourselves,” Reynir said, keeping his smile steady for them. “I will fetch the twins to prepare a room for you.” 

Preparing a room, of course, had meant Tuuri and Onni would take the twins’ bedroom while Rein Lalla and Reynir Lalli decided who slept on the couch and who slept on the floor. They thanked Reynir for his hospitality and for reaching out to them, but while Onni’s back was turned, Tuuri turned back to Reynir, her eyes teeming with tears. 

“I’m afraid he’s near,” she whispered close to his ear before joining her brother. 

As the voices of Onni and Tuuri faded along with the twins down the hall, Reynir gently shut the door and settled at the chair by the bed. 

Lalli rested with one arm over the covers, his eyes seeking the moon as if he could silently call for Kuutar one final time to heal him. The sight broke Reynir's heart, his once-strong and resilient husband now withered away and bedridden, his skin as pale and grey as his hair. 

Reynir settled at the chair beside the bed and took Lalli's bony hand in his. 

“T-thank you,” Lalli rasped. “For bringing me my family…it will help me to…pass on.” 

Reynir hid back the flinch, instead bringing Lalli’s hand to his lips, kissed him, and began tracing with the tip of one finger. 

The silence that followed was like a ticking clock warning Reynir against the time he was racing against. 

“Maire woke up, Onni tells me,” Reynir began in a calm voice.

“Did she?” The voice was barely audible, the words lazily formed on chapped lips, but his Lalli’s eyes shone with tears as he smiled. “She was always my favorite, little Maire.”

“The doctors say the tumor in her brain is gone. So is the swelling. The new chemo’s working.” 

“Our magic saved her.” 

Reynir nodded. “I think, yes, it did.” 

When they had heard of the surgery, they had called for Aina and the twins. For the entire day they had stood outside the Arngerðareyri, combined their magic, and prayed to their gods. To the Finnish gods Lalli had led the chants, and to the Icelandic gods, Reynir had led. Aina, Rein Lalla, and Reynir Lalli were anomalies, being favored by both the gods and with magic that took on similarities of both cultures. As they could pray in favor of both sets of gods, they had done so in hopes of it granting more favor and more strength. 

“Anything for Maire Västerström,” they had said. 

“That’s good to hear,” Lalli said. “I can rest knowing she will be okay.” 

“You’re not going anywhere,” Reynir said in a half-playing, half-pained tone as he continued tracing. He brought the hand to his lips, kissed it three times, before repeating the tracing again. “Remember when I was lost?”

With difficulty Lalli turned his attention to Reynir. It took effort to smile.

Reynir smiled in reminiscence for them both. “You hated me then. Remember how I walked into your dream and you hated it? Punched me right in the face? Remember when you began to enjoy our meeting in dreams, when neither of us could speak the other’s language?” 

“Yes.” The single word carried wispy through his lips. “I knew you from…before. Wish you…helped me then.” 

Reynir winced. He had learned that story after one night of lovemaking as Lalli, breathless, whispered the tale in his ear. It was out of his hands then, but it filled him with guilt nonetheless. 

“I knew nothing back then,” Reynir said. “I wasn’t even aware I was a mage.” 

“But you learned so much since,” Lalli said softly. “You took care of Valttu after he hurt me, after he hurt my family.” 

“Æ, not a good time to bring up bad memories,” Reynir chuckled. 

Lalli’s smile was too peaceful for Reynir’s comfort, eyelids drooping. “He doesn't scare me any more. He doesn't scare Mother anymore.” 

Reynir froze, thinking back to what the twins had told him. Was Lalli one foot into Tuonela already? He doubled up his work, ignoring the pacing of his heart. _Just a while longer, my beloved._

“Do you remember Katla?”

Lalli’s eyes fluttered opened, a shadow of a former mischief’s grin on his face. “I remember.” 

“She was one hundred years old when she passed away,” Reynir said. It seemed odd to laugh, but Reynir couldn't help himself. “But do you remember, Lalli? She was _smirking_. She was smirking in her own funeral, the only one smiling while we all wept for her!”

A corner of Lalli's lips curled. “She was something.” 

“One hundred years old, and we will be too,” Reynir said, laughing and choking back his sniffles. “I’m older, but I will wait for you, Lalli.” 

Lalli’s smile faded slowly. “It won’t happen that way. I’m not going to make the night, Reynir.” 

Reynir gave a brief chuckle and wiped a tear rolling down his face. “Don’t say that.” 

Lalli frowned. “You can’t deny this. You see how sick I am. You’ve been here from the beginning…”

“But there’s still hope.” He kissed the back of Lalli’s hand again three times, and repeated the process. One more cycle. 

“How?” Lalli’s smile was sad in its resignation. He struggled getting each sentence out. “I know my Luonto won’t return. I knew it from the moment I saw it leave me forever. I asked too much from it by taking on that giant. But I had no other choice. I would not risk losing any of you.” 

Reynir did not look away when he saw the tear slide from the corner of Lalli’s eyes. “Do you…do you think our gods will allow Katla and I to cross paths every now and then? And…if I could see you too…?” 

“They would have to, if we are going to both leave this world together in thirty years’ time.” 

“Still you’re on about that…that’s okay…you’re here now…” But the last few words were barely audible, more to himself. 

“You will live, Lalli.” 

There. Done. He raised Lalli’s hand to his lips again, meeting Lalli’s eyes. With a shock he could see Death closing in on his husband. 

“Doubt…it…can’t…breathe…”

“Lalli…”

“Thank you,” Lalli mumbled, using the last of his breath. “Onni…Tuuri…goodbye…Thank you…love you…my Reynir…” 

His eyes fell on the faint incision on the back of his hand, and if anything registered as odd, it was soon gone from his eyes. 

“Lalli! Lalli, _Ég elska þig_!” Reynir’s voice rippled through the still room and he blew into the faint stave on Lalli’s hand. 

A faint understanding passed Lalli’s fading eyes, but he was too weak to pull away. A feeling too intense, like a sudden ocean wave, surged through Reynir’s body, and he sighed long and content as he felt it flow out of him and seep through the stave and into Lalli’s body.

*

“Reynir.” The name drawled out, draining what little of his energy was still in him.

The wave crashed through him, the ensuing rush like the first intimate touch, Reynir’s hands on his thighs so long ago when they had reunited on his father’s farm, both still so unsure but undeniably drawn to one another. He gasped as he was suddenly aware of Reynir’s heartbeat as well as his own, engulfed by his lover more intimately than the nights when they lay entwined in bed with his head against Reynir’s bare chest; he was drowning in Reynir’s own life energy, and though he seldom cried, he felt the tears well up in the corners of his eyes. 

“Reynir…love…you could…die…”

“Could,” Reynir agreed. “But I can’t see you wither away like this. Death should not be an award for a hero.” 

“Why? Heroes die all the time.” 

“In a blaze of fiery glory, maybe.” 

“Would you have preferred me to go in a blaze of fiery glory?” 

“That would have traumatized the twins.” 

“It would.” 

Laughter jingled around him, a sound he had not realized he had missed. 

“Why are you doing this? _What_ are you even doing?” 

“Why am I giving away part of my soul?” Reynir grinned from above Lalli’s hand. “Because you’ve done the same in protecting our home. And I am giving you my luck, my Hamingja. We can transfer it to someone else if we choose, for any amount of time. Katla taught me of it long ago, but I never had need to do it before. I’m so sorry I never thought it could replace your Luonto.” 

“It could replace my Luonto?” 

“Don’t you feel alive already, love? Breathe for me.” 

Lalli opened his mouth to try, but fear pulled him back. 

“But what about you? Won’t _you_ wither away instead?” 

“No. Hamingja are different from Luonto. It's not so different from a kidney transplant. There's plenty of me left! Besides, you already have my heart! Now you have my heart and kidney, Lalli!”

“Bastard.”

Reynir's laughter pulled Lalli's lips into a grin. 

“Breathe, Lalli.” 

He obeyed, the wonderful, crisp air filling his empty lungs. He took great gulps of air, hungry for it, for life, reaching out, trying to touch Reynir. 

There were thick black tendrils over his head, darkness, the suffocation threatening to take hold once more—he saw a farmhouse and a green field, a man with greying hair and two young teens, followed by their dog and sheep all around — and cried out when a hand shot down and touched his, and he was pulled back out to the surface. The cool air rushed against his body and face and he was breathing again, his lungs taking in deep, deep breaths. 

Opening his eyes, he saw Reynir just he first had, all those years ago, in that dream: the sight of Reynir as awe-inspiring as it had been the first time, a mage who instantly captivated Lalli, wishing he could reach out to the man, seeking his companionship, a deed so unlike for Lalli. 

Reynir leaned over Lalli, his feet above the surface of the dream-water, his arms protectively around Lalli, who shivered, drenched from the water. 

“Hey! Sorry it took me so long to hear your cry for help,” Reynir said, smiling. “I hope I wasn’t too late.” 

“It took you a while,” Lalli said with a little bitterness. But he gave Reynir a small smile and leaned close, tasting Reynir’s lips with his, threading one hand through that thick mane of red hair, the hair that fascinated him, that he hated. Each kiss took him through their moments of ecstasy, of all their battles, bloodied and bruised but victorious; of Lalli smiling down at Reynir, riding him slowly to the peaks of bliss, fingers entwined as they drifted into Havens and lands not yet explored. Each embrace as they took turns learning how to raise their daughter, rebuilt the Arngerðareyri, spoke their vows and wept, thinking, _We’ve made it this far._

“Breathe for me, for everyone, Lalli, and if and if it becomes hard to breathe, let me breathe for you.” 

Lalli’s eyes flew open again, and he was in Reynir’s arms, in a different place, a warm but silent room. Curtain drawn, an IV line hooked to his arm. 

_So I didn’t die?_

Reynir's hair, once the vibrant tones of autumn, had taken on the grey of the approaching winter, and not as long as it once was, though he still wore it in a single braid, just long enough for Lalli to enjoy grabbing onto. His hand, Lalli realized a moment later, was threaded into the waves of wintery and autumn tresses. He took a breath, inches away from Reynir’s lips, the taste of his husband still fresh. 

He glanced off to the side, gathering his strength before he could meet Reynir’s expecting eyes. The green, so vibrant—everything seemed so vibrant suddenly; was it because he had been fading away or was this how Reynir saw the world?—was glimmering with unshed tears of joy, examining Lalli up close. He would have pushed Reynir away, but the months of lying flat on his back, feeling so ill, more alone than he had in years, steadied him. He kept his hands on Reynir’s shoulders. 

“Reynir…what did you do?” Lalli’s laugh came out brief. It wasn’t a question. 

“I’m so sorry it took me so long,” Reynir said, choking back a sob as he smiled. “I can sometimes be so, so stupid. Katla’s been trying to reach me with the answer, but I’ve been evading her—I wouldn’t leave your side…” 

Lalli grinned, feeling the life tingle through his body like raindrops against morning grass. “You are helpless without Katla, my fool.” 

They shared another kiss, and Reynir’s hand brushed up Lalli’s stomach, resting against his chest where his heart beat strong and firm. His stomach rumbled, hungry for a bit of food, and he smiled into the kiss, knowing he won’t have to rely on Tryggja any longer. The thought of seeing his grandchildren’s faces again, and Onni and Tuuri, and Onni’s reaction when he hears of how Reynir saved him. And Aina, dearest Aina, who Lalli feared would see him ill, what a story they had ready to tell her in her next visit. 

And Katla—he would have to thank her personally some day and in some way, just as Reynir’s tear-filled prayer interjected between each kiss, thanking the gods for this second chance, for keeping Lalli with him for just a little while longer.

**Author's Note:**

> What Reynir did to save Lalli is give him his Hamingja, which you can read about [here](http://norse-mythology.org/concepts/the-parts-of-the-self/). Since the implication is that the hamingja can be lent to another person, I do not think it will pose a risk on Reynir's own health, so the two will continue the rest of their lives as they had before with their grandchildren. :) I think Lalli has come a long way from being unable to handle Reynir to now living with a part of him permanently inside of him! 
> 
> Aina Reynisdóttir is inspired by a series of illustrations by Martti Kakkiainen of what the love child of each team combination may look like. Naturally, I fell in love with Reynir/Lalli’s love child and ended up making a whole backstory for her! :D 
> 
> The idea of shared havens was inspired by Innin's beautiful fic [Early Days](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6574129), also Reynir/Lalli but when they were just getting to know one another--check it out! :) 
> 
> The first line was inspired by a line from The Police's song "Synchronicity II." The song's quite sinister, so I couldn't resist using part of it here. :) 
> 
> Language notes:  
>  _Íslenuomi_ is a made-up word combining the languages Íslenska (Icelandic) and Suomi (Finnish). 
> 
> _Tryggja_ is the Icelandic word for "Ensure." We're just going to assume this brand product still exists in this universe but under the Icelandic translation of the word (not sure if it's accurate. If it's not, do forgive me! I’m willing to change this if it’s a mistake. :) ) 
> 
> _Ég elska þig_ is Icelandic for "I love you." :)


End file.
